


when I leave attach a piece of you to my ghost

by emptyskies



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: During Canon, Goodbye Sex, Goodbyes, Heavy Angst, Implied Relationships, Internal Conflict, M/M, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:26:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23815351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emptyskies/pseuds/emptyskies
Summary: While Bruce is packing the night before he is set to leave Gotham he is visited by a shadow of the past he meant to leave behind.
Relationships: Jerome Valeska/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 1
Kudos: 39





	when I leave attach a piece of you to my ghost

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure how much I like this. But I began working on this months ago when I first started watching the show and well, here it is. I hope the characterisation isn't too far off.
> 
> Title from End Of Life by Death Spells
> 
> Constructive criticism is welcome, just don't be a dick about it.

"You're leaving."

It was more of a disturbance than it really had any right to be; sent him jolting at the mere sound of his voice and spilling tea that had long gone cold all over the documents he'd spread out over his father's desk in preparation of his trip. It's a shock, somehow; though he'd been expecting this visit for weeks now, but his heart was pounding against his ribcage and his hands were shaking violently with nerves just the same. He was breathing hard, his lungs pulling tight with each frantic breath and his back gone completely tense, spilling curses and papers alike as he reluctantly turned to face him, expression murderous. "What are y-"

Jerome is perched on the windowsill, back against the windowframe and long legs encased in Arkham black and white outstretched before him; somehow more nightmare than man and larger than life even now, curtains billowing around him with the frantic movement of the mid-winter wind. It reminded him, in a distant sort of way, of the shadows that seemed to follow Jerome everywhere he went, shrouding him in promise; in neverending darkness just as it did now, face half hidden with it as he turned to watch Bruce with an indecipherable expression. He raised his eyebrows, face stretching tight with the movement.

"You're leaving." He repeated, not a question but Bruce took it as one; deliberately obtuse if only to put the subject itself at bay for just a little longer.

"Yes." 

"Without dropping in to say bye?" In spite of the smarmy grin on his twisted face there was an edge to his words, one that maybe he didn't even realise himself was there. "Now that's just bad form, Brucie."

"That's more your style isn't it?" Bruce said carelessly, and turns his back on him; has to, lest he fall into him once more. Like he always did. "I mean you're here now, aren't you? So I guess my attempts at keeping you in the dark were unsuccessful."

"I-"

He cut in, not allowing another word from Jerome's guileful mouth. "That is why you're here, right? To kill me?" He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, hated the way they left a cloying heaviness on his tongue that only weighed him down, sat like a stone when he tried to swallow it back. Perhaps it's for the best anyhow but the reassurances did nothing to lift the heavy weight of guilt on his chest.

He felt Jerome before he heard him, pressing in close like he meant to swallow him whole; molding himself to Bruce's back in a way that always made him go tense and relax in an instant, like he doused his entire body in gasoline and lit him on fire in the best and worst ways possible. His body heat is sinking into Bruce's, always so unnaturally warm like it meant to make up for lost time, for that "year of darkness". It was in stark contrast to the biting chill of the winter wind encircling them from the gaping windows and- wonderful.

"Now, now, Brucie, you and me both know that's not true." A shiver trailed down his spine involuntarily at Jerome's rasping voice in his ear, and gloved fingers brushing teasingly at the nape of Bruce's neck. "Do you really think so little of me?" Mocking, it's so painfully familiar that it sends a pang through his chest- but there's that edge again. Something bitter and morose; a little like regret but regret for what? Jerome had never shown regret, felt remorse for anything in his entire life. He'd heard so from the man himself, eyes glittering with malice and a sly grin that told more than Jerome ever did- but sometimes Jerome lied.

Bruce shrugged him off and stumbled on trembling limbs backwards to the side of the desk, if only to separate himself from Jerome.

Put a little distance between them like it might somehow lessen Jerome's effect on him, that intense longing deep in his guts that had him clenching his shaking hands into fists lest he find himself reaching out for the other man like he had a hundred times over when he'd been too weak to resist the temptation. Temptation, that's all Jerome really was, and he needed to remember that. This is precisely why he had to go, and hope- pray that an ocean was enough distance to lessen Jerome's hold on him.

But as he stood there, chest heaving and eyes darting over Jerome's lean but built frame and mutilated, horror of a face he wasn't so sure. Both that it would be enough and that he wanted the distance at all- but it would be good for him, it was this kind of thinking that got him into trouble time and time again.

Jerome sighed and collapsed onto the nearest couches in a limbless heap. "Bruce! You're killing me here."

A long moment of silence seemed to stretch on between them, Jerome eyeing him thoughtfully with his chin propped on his hand on his elbow on the arm of the couch like the kid he'd probably once been. Bruce could almost picture him, in some strange moment of clarity, all freckles and bright red hair shining in the sun and a sunburn dusting his cheeks. A whole array of bruises visible, because Lila and her ilk never cared if anyone knew. He felt bitter, in that instance, for the life Jerome had lived and the man he would never have the chance to be because of it. Both parentless in some regard- at least Bruce had had Alfred.

"You're not here to kill me," Bruce conceeded grudgingly, unwilling to give Jerome any more leverage than he already believed he had- and did, "Then why are you here?"

Jerome shrugged, but the change in his eyes was evident all the same. "Arkham is so....dull. I'd rather be out on the streets giving Jimbo hell, and corrupting you sweetcheeks."

"You're the one who got yourself thrown in Arkham." Bruce pointed out.

"Well you tried so darn hard, how could I say no to your pretty little stubborn face?"

"Look-" Bruce cut in abruptly.

Jerome waved his hand dismissively, unbothered at face value. "No, no. If you want me to go so badly I'll go." And as much as he hated it, he knew Jerome would. Jerome had always had a complex as tall as him, always wanting to be wanted but never in the right way. They were similar, in that aspect; in ways he wished he'd never known. It was one of the things he had liked about Jeremiah, how he had been the anti-Jerome as much as someone could be. It had been fun, for a short while, comforting even, that he could finally enjoy the company of someone who wasn't actively trying to kill him or was lukewarm towards him at most. But in the end he had turned out to be just as bad, if not worse- thanks to Jerome's insanity gas.

He didn't make it two steps before Bruce broke, his voice rough and cracking. "Wait-" 

"Hmm what's that now?"

Bruce cleared his throat. "Don't go alright?"

Jerome preened, "Well since you asked so nicely." Jerome was pressed against him in the time it took for him to blink.

All at once Jerome's looming presence over him is simultaneously too much and not enough, and he has half a mind to shove Jerome away again; turn him away to the night like he had once before but his mind was blank and his body statue still as Jerome's caressing touch turned biting. One hand enclosed upon Bruce's wrist and spun him around, leaving no room for anything else. Tugged him close, held him by the chin, fingers digging in as he kissed him with such a sudden fierceness it left Bruce breathless and wanting. His lips parted, a wanton groan escaping but ultimately muffled by the constant of Jerome's, and Jerome took it as an invitation to slip his tongue into Bruce's mouth, prodding and searching and unrelenting, a true representation of Jerome himself.

He pulled away, but stayed close, breathing Jerome in while he still had the chance. "Stay- for the night. But you have to go back to Arkham in the morning. I have a plane to catch anyway." He murmured.

Jerome's expression soured, but as he opened his mouth to speak he paused and sighed like the weight of the world was just too much to handle.

"What?"

"Just thought-" Jerome broke off with a harsh bark of a laugh, bitter. "I dunno."

Before Bruce could push the subject any further Jerome went in for another kiss, and picked Bruce up like he was nothing. He wrapped his arms around Jerome's broad shoulders and pressed his face in close against Jerome's chest, his own aching as he knew it'd be the last time they could ever be together as they were now. It was for the better, he knew that, and he liked to pretend his heart knew that too.

With Jerome on top of him and inside of him, it was almost like any other night, instead of their last night together but he couldn't let himself think that way. Not tonight, not when it mattered most. He had to drink in every bit of it; every echo of pleasure, the smack of flesh on flesh, the way Jerome bit his neck hard, in the crook, when he got close. How it felt to be wanted and to want back. Want so badly it hurt, but knowing they could never have each other. They had been pushing the lines, blurring them as was. It wasn't love, it couldn't be, but the bond between them was a damning prophecy all the same.

It was only after it was all said and done, that the thought crossed his mind once more and he couldn't let it go this time.

"Hey Jerome?"

"Yeah?"

"What were you going to say- before."

Jerome opened his eyes, staring up in Bruce's blearily. "Thought I toldja to disregard that."

"Humour me."

"Don't I always?" Jerome winked, a slow, sly smile spreading across his face.

"Be serious. Just this once." He petted Jerome's hair, combing his fingers through it and taking in the mollified look on his face.

Jerome sighed, loud and drawn out, and turned away like it might hide the pained expression on his face, the way his body was tensing, like he expected to be struck down. Like he had been time and time again before he learned to bite back. "I thought- I dunno what I thought. C'mon don't ruin the moment." He turned back to him. "C'mere."

Bruce settled into the crook of Jerome's arm, his head on Jerome's scarred, bullet wound riddled chest and his arm around his waist. He closed his eyes. He knew, or at least he thought he did. Jerome was being left behind, once again. Abandoned by everyone he'd ever cared for, if you could call what Jerome did caring. He was callous at best, a menace at worst and the way they'd ended up together- that disastrous night at the carnival he wasn't soon to forget- it was almost like fate playing a big joke on them. Jerome would love that idea, though he was more nihilistic than he ever let on.

Bruce found Jerome's hand in the dark and squeezed it gently. "Hmm?" 

"Take care of yourself, Jerome." And he knew abruptly it was the last thing he wanted to say, but you don't always get what you want most in the world. He knew that to be fact, his life a testament to it.

"I make no promises." 

Bruce huffed out a weak laugh, tears stinging in his eyes for not the first time. And for not the first time he wished they had met under different circumstances. He knew with bitter certainty that Jerome would be gone when he woke up, and Alfred would come to wake him for breakfast unaware of what had transpired in the night. This was all they had. All they'd ever had, and he wondered when he had become so embittered.

**Author's Note:**

> This should be a link to my tumblr. Send me messages, send asks, hell send me requests, just whatever.  
> [fades-in-time](http://fades-in-time.tumblr.com/)


End file.
